She answers fairly quickly, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Holley: I told you I’m fine. No, not fine. Good. Fantastic. Not fine, okay? Just ignore that, and don’t go reading anything into it because I know you will. P.S. You’re annoying. Do your date thing with Rachel.
I almost laugh at how well I can hear her ramble in my mind, but I take comfort in the fact that she’s clearly not acting too out of the ordinary. Someone who wasn’t Holley would have just deleted the sentiment of ‘fine’ and started the text over again.
I put my phone away and bring myself back to getting to know Rachel. The only way to make these dates bearable is to give them the chance they deserve. Rachel is a really nice, normal human. We don’t butt heads like I did with Bianca, and she deserves my undivided attention for at least the next hour.
I make a promise to myself not to let distractions like my friendship with Holley get in the way of giving this a chance.
“You’re an elementary school teacher, right?” I ask, leaning back into my hands on the blanket and picking a grape from the container sitting between us.
Rachel watches my hand and makes a tiny face before quickly clearing it. I don’t know what it’s about, but I give her a pass. I haven’t exactly been the most conscientious date up until this point. She’s probably just giving herself some sort of mental pep talk like the one I just did.
“Uh, yeah,” she eventually answers. “I teach mostly third grade, but last year I taught a kindergarten class, and that was really fun. They’re still so full of wonder, you know?”
“Definitely. That’s a great age,” I remark. “When my daughter was that age, she was a real pistol, too. Always asking me the kinds of crazy questions I didn’t necessarily want to answer. Did you get a lot of that with your class?”
“I always tell my class there are no wrong questions,” she states firmly, and I nod.
“Yes, definitely. I agree. All questions have merit. I just mean the ones that make you uncomfortable or put you on the spot.”
“I never want to discourage them from asking me anything.”
I sigh internally. Okay. Time to move on.
I grab another grape from the dish, and she watches me the same way, only this time, she doesn’t hide it as well.
Is she angry that I’m eating?
I decide to test the waters. “These grapes are delicious. Do you like grapes?”
“I only eat grapes on special occasions. They’re mostly full of sugar.”
“Grapes?” I ask, thinking I must have heard her wrong.
“Yes. Fruit has its place, but it’s not as nutrient-centered as people think it is.”
“Grapes,” I repeat again. I don’t want to be an asshole, but I’m really missing the bus here.
“Yes,” she confirms, her eyes narrowing. “They’re sixteen percent sugar.”
I nod—the slow, exaggerated kind that says I’m really struggling to find a way to continue this conversation without ruffling any feathers.
I reach for a cube of cheese, and she sneers again. I glance at my watch and sigh. Time of death on date number two? 4:15 p.m.
Call the morgue; this body is ready for transport.
Fucks gone, I reach over for the basket of crackers and cheese and pull it into my lap, eating them with both great joy and splendor. Rachel tries to ignore me as she asks me questions, but even my answers have been superseded by my ability to eat a turkey and cheese cracker sandwich.
We pass the time with small talk, but it’s painful and forced. I don’t bother with asking her if she’s ready to go when she gets done nibbling on some lettuce; I just put all the stuff away and carry it to the four-wheeler. She follows wordlessly and climbs up behind me as I start it up again. Her body sinks into mine, but she doesn’t wrap her arms quite as tightly, I can tell.
And it doesn’t feel bad. I admit, the physical chemistry between us at the beginning was not terrible. Rachel is a very attractive woman. Long brown hair, bright-blue eyes, and a nice smile. She’s got a girl-next-door kind of look that most men would kill for.
But now that we’ve conflicted so much on the food, I can’t even think about the rest. Some people might say that agreeing on food standards isn’t all that important in a relationship, but I’d